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If you’re still reading Mastication Monologues for day 2 of our Tenerife adventures, you’re in luck because that’s exactly what’s in store for this post! While my post for day one was action packed complete with a beach rave and us being tardy to a sardine burning party, this post is for those who are more into chill days or fans of the world’s beautiful game: Soccer or better known as football.

We started the day off with breakfast in the hotel restaurant, and we decided to take a post-breakfast paseo or stroll to the walkway below the hotel that traced the jagged, volcanic coast of the island with plenty of giant aloe plants, beautiful flowers, and lizards along the way. Eventually, we looked out over the alcantilados or local cliffs and saw that there was a round indentation that jutted out from the coastline and was filled with water. Upon closer inspection, we saw that there were people walking around it and swimming by it in the ocean. Our new plan for the day was to make it to the natural pool and swim in the ocean or bust. This was our first foray into the very hilly main neighborhoods east of our hotel, and it turned out to be more complicated that we thought. Since Tenerife has undergone and still is experiencing the influx of tourism, we had to navigate a labyrinth of private resort properties and small side streets to eventually find a series of stairways that led to the rocky coast line. However, our adventure didn’t end there, we then traversed a series of giant, sloping crags to eventually reach the end of rocky shore and the natural pool. It was a true test of marital teamwork. As we made our way past snorkelers riding the waves while also trying not to be thrown upon the giant stones lining the shore, we were amazed at how Tenerife manages to still have pockets of wild beauty amidst the encroachment of humans. We gazed upon the water as we prepared to dive in, and we could even see small fish flitting about under the surface before we cannonballed our way into the cold and salty Atlantic. It was a great day of soaking up the sun and surf while swimming. Eventually, we decided to call it a day after we began to feel like pieces of salty bacalao, and on our way back up from the natural pool we made friends with an older Italian couple. The jolly signore and I bonded as we helped our ladies over the giant rocks, and he was surprised to find we were American. Turns out he was retired Italian air force officer who temporarily worked with the U.S. military and lived in Huntsville, Alabama (said with his best impression of a Southern American accent), and we enjoyed a good laugh about sometimes not being able to understand some of our fellow tourists’ thick British accents. Eventually, we parted ways at the top of the hill, and Janice and I decided to get an early dinner before the Spain vs. Morocco match.

We ended up at a small restaurant called Camber (Calle Herrador, 64, 38683 Puerto de Santiago, Santa Cruz de Tenerife, Spain) that was your typical Spanish cafeteria with terrace seating and indoor seating and a bar with tapas out for display. We decided to sit outside to enjoy the sunny weather, but that quickly became our undoing as we were bombarded with a horde of flies that were enchanted with my saltwater-soaked jersey. Between enraged swats, we had a lovely meal. The first tapas that emerged were paella and the albondigas or meatballs. The paella wasn’t as good as the one from our sunset cruise, but the sweet tomato sauce went well with the pork-based meatballs. We then received our gambas al ajillo or garlic shrimp which was served in a way I’ve never seen before. Instead of being grilled and tossed with garlic, they were served in a low, wide clay bowl still boiling in water and olive oil and surrounded by a plethora of sliced garlic cloves. Although they were on the smaller end of the shrimp kingdom, they were fresh and coated in a heavenly garlic wash. Finally, our main and muy canario entree emerged from the kitchen: choco or cuttlefish with a side of papas arrugadas or wrinkly potatoes. Surprisingly, there were some indigenous potatoes on the islands before the Spaniards introduced the variety we were eating in the 1500s. However, the ancient preparation of this dish hasn’t changed where they are boiled, heavily salted, and then left to dry which results in a shriveled potato with a salty crust (kind of how we felt after our Atlantic Ocean adventure). These spuds were accompanied by traditional mojo verde and mojo rojo (pronounced “mo-ho). The green/verde variety was more like a mild chimichurri made from parsley, cilantro, garlic, and olive oil, and the red/rojo variety was spicier since it contained paprika and small, red peppers from the neighboring island of La Palma. I liked both of them, especially when mixed together, on the potatoes. These sauces were eventually brought to the Caribbean where they live on in Cuban, Puerto Rican, and Dominican cuisine, and the red mojo legacy even can be seen in some spicier barbecue sauces from the American South where Spanish influence existed like Texas, Florida, and Louisiana. As for the choco or cuttlefish, it is a very common dish as well as octopus in the Canary Islands since island nations typically love their seafood. I don’t think it was the best cuttlefish in the world, but it wasn’t terrible. I liked the green mojo that brought out more of the cuttlefish’s salty flavor, but I’m sure there are better seafood spots on the island. Once we paid, we walked back to our hotel to change out of the fly-enticing clothes we were rocking. On our walk back, we perused a local open-air mall for some possible souvenirs, and we found a let’s just say “suggestive” trend of suspiciously shaped bottle openers as we went from store to store. Eventually, we asked a shopkeep why there are so many of these kind of bottle openers, and he simply said, “One person sold them, and people buy them.” Hooray for civilization! Once we changed, we walked back up the mini-mountain to Bar Central (Av. 5º Centanario, s/n, 38683 Santiago del Teide, Santa Cruz de Tenerife, Spain). It was similar to the Camber cafeteria, but it was soccer themed with all of the crests of Spanish futbol clubs along the top of the establishment. As the teams took the field and the anthems played, we saw the surrounding tables fill up with patrons, some who worked at our hotel, to see the furia roja play their way to the top of the group. As the ball began to roll, our waiter came around with free tapas (credit to Janice for the excellent portraits) including green olives, liver sausage on crunchy, mini toasts, and our favorite spicy chorizo spread on the same small toasts. It was the perfect side to our cold Doradas and the dramatic injury time goal that brought the Spanish to the top of their group. After all that excitement, it was calming to watch the sun set over the horizon and the beautiful island of Gomera that we would explore the following day. Stay tuned, readers!

Welcome back to Mastication Monologues, and if you haven’t been back here lately, I am currently recounting the tale of when Janice and I went to Charleston, South Carolina. Here’s the first installment for your reading pleasure. The second day is also full of history, good eats, and one of the greatest moments of my life: proposing to Janice. So, buckle up because you’re about to read one of the greatest love stories since Jon Snow and Ygritte minus the whole being shot through with a bunch of arrows and tragic death part.

After that first day of gallivanting about the Chuck, as the locals call Charleston, we decided to get out of the hubbub of the city and visit the Middleton Plantation. However, before we even left the house, I realized that this was the day I would propose to Janice. I was planning on doing it at the Angel Oak tree after visiting the Middleton Plantation, but now I needed to figure out how to carry the ring. I could have worn my coat, but it was a warm day outside. Luckily, before we left Chicago, I had stowed a piece of gauze in one of my jean pockets. So, when Janice was showering, I went to my backpack where the ring was hidden in my backpack back at the security line in Chicago. I took out the box, which was too big for my jean pockets, and removed the beautiful ring. I wrapped it in the gauze, removed some business cards from an interior pocket in my wallet, and placed the ring in that very same pocket. Mission partially complete. I played it cool when Janice asked if I was ready to go, and we made our way to the Middleton Plantation.

At the current moment in America, race relations are continuing to grow tenser as the country becomes more diverse, and the race interactions established at the outset of our country through slavery and immigration can be seen today at this opulent 7,000 acre estate. We decided to do the entire tour package, with included a house tour and carriage ride, but we had free time before we got to meet the horsies. So, we decided to stroll about the grounds and marvel at the natural wonders that were planted and landscaped to perfection. Some of the highlights were seeing the oak trees that dotted the walkways that ranged anywhere from 200 to 900 years old. Mind you, the plantation was first established in 1730, and it actually is home to the oldest landscaped gardens in the United States. Eventually, it was time to hitch a ride with a born and bred Charlestonian and two old ladies, horses that is. Janice could hardly contain her excitement as they clip clopped their way to the pickup point and into Janice’s heart.

Cue emotional music

We climbed aboard the old carriage and took off as our driver explained the history of the plantation to us. The Middleton plantation was not mainly a working plantation but rather a country estate. That is not to say that there weren’t slaves who worked there, but they were either employed as house servants, lumberjacks to harvest the timber, rice planters in the large rice paddies off the Ashley River, or grow and collect indigo to a lesser extent. This was not your stereotypical cotton plantation. The real money was in the signature gold grain Carolina rice which was well suited for the humid Carolina weather and the planters’ profit margins. We went about the ground looking at the farm house complete with one of the male horses who wanted to bust out of his pen and the famous layabout known as Rocky the guinea hog. There was also one of the former slave houses next to the animal pens. We learned that the slave quarters were raised off the ground because it was a way to offer a bit of cool air in an otherwise brutal environment. By the time we reached the end of our journey, the horses were ready to get some hay and a nap, but we still managed to get some pics with these local celebrities.

Bffls!

All of that excitement going 2 miles per hour with a slight breeze in our hair worked up our appetites, so Janice and I decided to try the plantation restaurant which was housed in a former guest house. We were led to the main dining room that was overlooking the lily pond. We looked over the menu which was filled with plenty of Low Country classics. We quickly made our choices since we had to finish our meal before our house tour. Janice got an order of fried chicken, macaroni and cheese, collard greens, and cornbread, and I got the pecan smoked pork shoulder with Carolina gold mustard sauce. Before they brought out our food, they also asked if we wanted sweet tea, regular tea, or water. Naturally, I went for the sweet tea, and Janice got the unsweetened tea. I was so happy with my sweet tea for one main reason: it was actually sweet. McDonalds back home always would promote their sweet tea during the summertime, and I love my sweet iced tea. When I got it, it tasted like plain black tea poured over some ice. Naturally, I had to go to the South where they know how to make it correctly. Then the food came out, and we had to hold ourselves back from going full Cookie Monster on these enticing plates. My pecan smoked pork shoulder took me to hog heaven. It was melt-in-your mouth tender, and the smoky flavor mixed perfectly with the slightly sweet mustard sauce. The creamed green beans were good but not great. However, I enjoyed the Hoppin’ John on the side. This southern staple has been around as long as African slaves have been in the USA, and the name is thought to have come from the possible corruption of the Haitian creole for pigeon peas or “pois pigeons” ([pwa pi jahns]). It was a scaled back version of the richer version that southerners serve on new year’s day with green elements like kale or peppers to symbolize luck and money. The rice was perfectly cooked with a bit of salt and pepper with plenty of black beans, and I would highly recommend mixing it with the pork. Janice was equally satisfied with her fried chicken. The breading was light and gave way to the juicy all white meat chicken below the surface. I was more of a fan the plantation cornbread since it didn’t skimp on the butter and sugar compared to the more crumbly and savory cornbread at Husk. While I am averse to eating any type of pasta (yes, I’m a monster), Janice gave the macaroni and cheese two thumbs up. The collard greens were ok, but not as satisfying as the ones at Hominy Grill. By the time we were finished, we had to get up and get moving because it was almost time to start our house tour. Janice was going to pay the bill, but she couldn’t find her credit card. I paid the bill instead, and we assumed it must have been left in the car. As we walked past the house for the house tour to see one of the oldest trees on the estate, we heard someone call out, “Excuse me!”. We turned around to see two older women walking toward us, and they asked Janice if her name was “Janice Kim”. She replied in the affirmative, and it turned out that two different people had found her drivers license and her credit card in two different areas and turned both in to the visitors’ center. This was a prime example of Southern hospitality and manners. We decided to pick the cards up when we would leave, so we went to snap some pictures with the 900 year old oak tree, the same river where they blew up the British ships in the movie the Patriot, and the burned down houses. After successfully being insignificant next to this natural giant, we went to our house tour. It was originally built in 1755, but is only one of the original three houses left standing. The main house and the north flanker house were burned down by Union troops during the Civil War. Unfortunately, we were not allowed to take any pictures, but we were up to our necks in historical facts including the lodging being home to Henry Middleton’s son, Arthur, who signed the Declaration of Independence. We highly recommend checking out the rich mahogany interiors if you love architecture, history, shiny things, and/or how high class society lived. By the time we emerged from that time capsule, we had to make a decision about what we wanted to see before they closed up the Angel Oak park. We decided to pick up the all important credit card and drivers license and check out the gift shops. Janice was on the hunt for souvenirs while I was secretly having time anxiety and subsequent sweats. Visit http://kratomcrazy.com for help on how to fight anxiety in a natural way. She would ask me for opinions on magnets and rice while I was starting to run in place (in my head). Janice eventually picked up my vibe, and we got to the car quickly. We had to make the ride from northern Charleston down to John’s Island quick because we had about a hour before the park closed. Thankfully, we made it with enough time, and on the way, Janice was seriously doubting whether or not I was ever going to propose to her. She wasn’t joking, and neither was I. Perfect timing to put a ring on it. I realized I had to get the rock out of the interior pocket of my wallet, and I managed to do so as Janice rushed toward the tree with her selfie stick. The Angel Oak is estimated to be over 1500 years old and what a more romantic place to pop the question? It is one of the biggest and most sprawling trees I’ve ever seen. We took some pictures on one side of the tree, and I was analyzing the best place to do the deed. Cue the palm sweat and shifty eyes. Janice was none the wiser as we walked under the massive branches. We moved to the back side of the tree, and there wasn’t anybody around. This was it. My heart felt like it was going to pound out of my chest as I fumbled for the ring in the gauze and placed it in my hand. She turned around and everything I had planned to say went out the window. I said that it was a fitting place since she was my angel. I could see she was shaking her head due to the high levels of cheesiness in the atmosphere, but then she knew something was afoot when I dropped to my knee. I choked out my request to spend the rest of my life with her, and her response was like something out of Shakespeare: *cue crying, some laughing* “I’m holding my selfie-stick”. Just like in the movies! I was still waiting on my knee with the ring in my hand as she was more worried about her contraption. Eventually she took the ring and put it on her finger while still profusely crying with me on bended knee. Janice finally said “yes” through the tears, and I could get out of the power lunge of the century. It felt like we were floating on air beneath this relic of antiquity, and we even had an audience eventually who clapped for us. Once we finally got a picture in front of the tree with her new ring, we proceeded to let the world know of our engagement. We were then at a loss at what to do next, so I suggested that we could go for a romantic stroll along the river walk in downtown Charleston. It was the perfect setting as new fiance and fiancee as we watched the sunset, poochies running in the park, and the Citadel cadets getting some fresh air. All of the aforementioned events had made us quite hungry, so luckily I managed to find a romantic restaurant to celebrate known as High Cotton.

High Cotton oozed class. It seemed like we stepped into a time machine to an old mansion complete with an antique bar, dark wood accents, and tropical ceiling fans. It is a moderately dressy place, so don’t expect to fit in with your tank tops and jorts. We were seated at a table in the main dining room, and our waiter informed us of Charleston’s restaurant week which meant there was a special menu where we were able to choose an appetizer, entree, and dessert for the low low price of $40. Overall though, High Cotton is a restaurant that focuses on local ingredients and classic Low Country recipes. We also told him of our very recent engagement, so he treated us to a pair of complimentary champagne flutes. For our appetizer round, I got the fried green tomatoes napoleon which were the bread to a pimento cheese sandwich and surrounded by pickled shrimp. I found it to be satisfying and surprisingly light even though it was deep fried, and the pimento cheese was like a thick, spicy cheddar with the consistency of peanut butter. The shrimp were also pleasing even though they were pickled. Janice’s blue crab soup was ok. It was savory with a hint of sweetness that came along with the blue crab. We moved on to our entrees with gusto. My 8 oz. beef tenderloin with Bearnaise sauce, horseradish mashed potatoes, and Brussels sprouts were fit for a king. Everything was phenomenal. The mashed potatoes were creamy with just the right amount of sinus-clearing horseradish. The Brussels sprouts were roasted and slightly burnt and crunchy but not terribly charred. As for the meat and sauce, it was grilled to optimum juiciness which wasn’t overshadowed by the rich Bearnaise sauce. Can’t say enough good things about this dish. Janice’s shellfish and ravioli had a lot of fresh seafood from the nearby harbor including clams, shrimp, and crab along with peas and ravioli in a Parmesan sauce. I didn’t try the ravioli, but the clams were extraordinarily good. Our waiter said that the clams in the Low Country are actually better than oysters, but they don’t get the hype they deserve because they aren’t as sexy as their supposed aphrodisiac cousins. Couldn’t agree more with him. Janice thought the plate overall was ok though. Thankfully, dessert didn’t disappoint. I ordered the chocolate bread pudding complete with candied pecans, bourbon caramel, and vanilla ice cream. Need I say more? It was slightly warm which melted the ice cream which went along with the smoky caramel and crunchy pecans. It infused the semi-sweet, spongy dough of the bread pudding with a heavenly taste. Janice went with one of her favorite desserts: the vanilla bean creme brulee with a Carolina twist with tea infused citrus segments. The burnt sugar on top was a golden brown with a luscious and moderately rich cream below. By the time we reached the final spoonful, we were not only in love with each other but with High Cotton’s fare, atmosphere, and service. We made our way out and enjoyed a bit of the jazz quartet in the bar that was not performing when we first walked in. However, it was a classy end to a day filled with viewing history past, making history of our own, and plans for the future. If you’ve successfully made it to the end of this post, congrats and there are plenty more adventures to come!

Finally, done with final exams and my 2nd Bachelor’s Degree!!! The feeling is amazing, and what better way to celebrate than starting the story of our journey to Charleston, South Carolina? Oh yeah, and also asking my wonderful girlfriend to marry me! So, like any good tale, let’s start at the beginning.

Before we left for Charleston, we had been talking about when we would get married and types of engagement rings Janice wanted. In fact, she was the occasional Debbie Downer thinking that I might never pop the question. Little did she know I had already ordered and secretly stashed the ring at home. *Cue maniacal laughter* Once we got to the airport, the game was afoot. Through a series of strategic positioning choices while walking, like holding her left hand in my right hand because the ring was in my left pocket, and taking advantage of classic airport situations, like the madness at the security lines and Janice’s subsequent rage at everyone’s incompetence, I managed to sneak the ring in my backpack. This is where it would stay until later in our trip. Keep that in mind, readers. The flight and nighttime jaunt to our Air BnB was relaxing, and we were ready to explore the city the next day. We woke up to a slightly cool day that was punctuated with plenty of intermittent rain and wind as we were off to brunch at our first Charleston restaurant. From the outset, we knew this was going to be an eventful day since we were greeted with biblical floods throughout downtown Charleston. Not only were we learning the streets, but we were also playing our own version of Oregon Trail in our rental car which also oddly had a dial instead of an actual gear shift. Definitely was freaking me out.

Notice the flood waters right outside our window.

Fording all of those rivers really whipped up our appetite, and we finally arrived at Hominy Grill (thankfully we didn’t lose any oxen!). This tastefully and colorfully decorated historical Charleston house was a symbol of the deep roots that run through the east coast port town. Charleston was one of the richest cities in the original 13 colonies due to cash crops like rice, indigo, and timber that were harvested by the slaves that were subsequently brought over to do all the dirty work. Although the institution of slavery is based on the concept that one group of people is viewed as being less than human and more like chattel or general investments, the power of good food can still make the oppressed class make their voices heard even when other parts of their culture might be done away with by the ruling class. In fact, it is often the case around the world that some of the best food comes from the lower classes since they have to make the most of what they could afford. That would be a common theme throughout our trip as we ate signature Southern American dishes that have African roots but appeased the taste buds of the English colonists. Hominy grill brought plenty of this blended South Carolinian culture. We loved the antique interior which also kept the quaint colonial vibe when I noticed they weren’t playing any music in the restaurant. I don’t know if it’s a Chicago thing, but we more often than not have music going on in restaurants. So, it was a welcome change to just hear the sound of families and friends enjoying good food. The meal began not with a bread basket rather a paper container of boiled peanuts. While these are now a common Southern snack, they trace their roots back to Africa. They are commonly sold as a street food in Ghana even to this day, and in the South they can also be called “goober peas” which reminded me of a popular Civil War my mom would randomly sing. I had actually never had them, so we tucked into them. It was weird because the normally crunchy shells peeled off like a loose skin, and the peanuts had an almost meaty quality to them. I can see why they could be a good snack food, but I prefer my honey roasted variety. I did like that we got more than we bargained for because for some reason it seemed that there were a lot of three and even four nut shells. We kept the food festival going with two appetizers in the form of fried green tomatoes ($6) and hushpuppies ($5). I had had hushpuppies before, but never like this. The first people to have made them were Native Americans in the Southern United States, but they became popular during the Civil War. Their name supposedly came from the Confederate soldiers using them to make their dogs be quiet or “hush the puppies”. I can see why because I was making my barking stomach curl up and sleep in a food coma. I didn’t really get the jalapeno flavor or spice in them as advertised in the menu, but the subtly sweet sorghum butter was a fitting compliment to the crunchy and salty crust. The real star of the appetizer round was the fried green tomato plate. It was another Southern fried treat which consisted of unripe tomatoes coated in batter and fried with a side of ranch dressing. It might have been the Midwesterner in me which embraced the ranch dressing, but the creamy richness was a match made in heaven with the semi-juicy and sour interior and crispy exterior. As if that wasn’t enough food, we managed to move on to our entrees. Hominy Grill is a Michelin starred restaurant with not super Michelin prices serving plenty of Southern comforts, and we stayed true to what Hominy Grill is good at. Janice ended up getting the Shrimp and Grits ($19) which was different than most grits I’ve ever had. They were more like a very fine risotto compared to the creamier grits that I tried in Georgia or have seen at soul food events. The shrimp were perfect and the scallions and bacon brought a savory edge to the smooth plate. Then there was my choice: the Nasty Biscuit ($10.50). If there was one plate to sum up Southern cuisine, this tried to roll every element into one meal (minus delicious barbecue). It was a buttermilk biscuit with a piece of fried chicken in the middle bobbing in a sea of sausage gravy and cheddar cheese. Straight. Up. Nasty. (in a good way, naturally) There was no easy way to eat this symbol of Southern madness/genius, but it was as heart stoppingly good as you might imagine. I wouldn’t have to eat for another week with the amount of calories this bomb contained, but I would recommend it to anyone who wants something that’s more southern than Colonel Sanders, the Dukes of Hazard, and Nascar combined. We also got a side of collard greens since Janice likes them, and we needed to keep the southern food train rolling. I never really tried them before this moment, but I would liken them to an earthier spinach. Not something I’d go out of my way to eat, but thank God I got something green to eat in this sea of deep fried goodness. Somehow, some way we managed to make room for their famous homemade buttermilk pie. Good lawd, I have never had a pie like this, but it was the lightest pie I’ve ever eaten. First, it was chilled which made it seemed more lithe than the cumbersome fried food we had before. Then the filling was like consuming a sweet treat that was like a suave vanilla custard that caressed our overworked palates. Finally, the crust. It was minimally intrusive compared to your typical lard based pie crust which made all the difference in this belt buster of a meal. We came super hungry and left super satisfied. Can’t praise the Hominy Grill restaurant and staff enough.

Thankfully, we walked like crazy afterward along Charleston’s harbor. Since the weather was craptacular, we thought we could wait out the rain in the Charleston aquarium, but unfortunately we missed the last tour for the biggest draw: the sea turtle hospital.

We did come out on top with puns though.

We cut our losses, and got tickets for the next day and instead went to Fort Sumter which just so happened to be next door. Well, actually it was the national park museum commemorating the flashpoint of the beginning of the Civil War, and it was chock full of historical goodness that we appreciated. The actual fort consisted of us getting on a ferry boat and going out to an island in the harbor. It was windy and cold, and I was smart enough to not bring a jacket (or I’m just that tough). We landed and it was the perfect time to go since the weather scared away the hordes of tourists. The fort was a mere shadow of its former self, but I could imagine how terrible it must have been for the defenders to be behind its ramparts and being shelled day after day. My favorite part of the visit consisted of the flag lowering ceremony that was similar to how the former Union defenders would do at the end of each day. It was an extremely windy day, and it was more challenging than you may think. Think about a fifty foot piece of heavy canvas flying and whipping at you violently, but luckily teamwork saved the day. Going back on the ferry, thankfully the weather let up to take in the many beautiful views of Charleston skyline and bridge. I later learned that Janice had thought I was going to propose to her on the ferry which surprised me. That big event will come later in the story at a more unique location! Instead, we continued to walk off our heavy lunch along the broad avenues of Charleston’s historical downtown. I could not get enough of how much history was around every corner. Surprisingly, we were hungry again, so we had to try a little place called Husk. It is in a late 19th Century mansion and led by a James Beard award winning chef, so we threw ourselves at the mercy of their menu. Janice wisely got reservations before we even landed in Charleston, so we checked in just below the steep staircase. We still had to wait for a table though since the entire establishment was hopping. Thankfully, they had a smaller guest house next door that was converted into a two tiered bar. The drink menu was Charleston through and through with references to parts of the city (the Four Corners of Law) and southern flavors. We were quickly seated upstairs at one of their rustic wooden tables. We started off with a Turcotte’s Tipple ($11) and a Charleston Light Dragoon’s Punch ($9). Janice’s tipple drink was an homage to the rider of the Triple Crown winner Secretariat, and it was a bourbon based, grapefruit-infused drink that was as fleet footed as its steed namesake. If you’re looking for a light, understated fruity drink for a hot summer day, this is your best bet. As for mine, it was taken straight from a 1783 recipe from the archives of the Preservation Society of Charleston. It was much stronger than Janice’s front porch refreshment due to the rum and the peach brandy, and it combined with black tea and lemon juice to add a spiked sweet/iced tea flavor to the mix. I’d liken this drink to a British version of a Manhattan. Even though we were next door, Husk’s staff actually came to get us upstairs in the guest house to lead us to our table in the main house. Now that’s what I call service! We were shown upstairs past their homemade pickled vegetables and firewood for the ovens to one of the front dining rooms that had a view of the second floor porch. Janice also got a Copperhead ($11) which a whiskey with a hint of absinthe that was like a licorice infused Old Fashion. As for food, we got a complimentary basket of fresh pretzel rolls that were small, warm orbs of heavenly dough with a side of whipped creamy butter. The culinary dream that happened soon thereafter was the stuff of legend. First, we got fried chicken skins with kimchi mayo, black garlic mayo, and scallions ($11) and glazed pig ear wraps ($12). The former was continuing with the southern fried theme from our Hominy Grill lunch. The people at Husk could sell them at any national chicken chain as a guilty pleasure and make a fortune. They were just the right amount of crunchy, salty, savory, and spice with the kimchi mayo. As for the glazed pig ear wraps, they were like a southern version of Korean ssam bap. The cook had similar strips of pork that were a bit tougher than kalbi, but they did have some pickled cucumbers and red onion to keep in line with this Korean fusion dish. I would highly recommend both of these appetizers. We moved on to the entrees where Janice got the heritage pork ($34) and the bacon cornbread ($8) while I got the flat iron steak ($34). I thought that combining the hottest ingredient/breakfast food since sliced bread with a delicious southern staple would have yielded an unforgettable pairing to our flawless dishes, but alas, we were not impressed since it was actually on the dry and crumbly side. Thankfully, my flat iron steak was assembled to perfection with medium rare steak, mushrooms, broccoli, and shishito peppers. The steak were burgundy nuggets of bliss and the vegetables were expertly sauteed. Kudos to the addition of the shishito peppers that gave the mostly mild ingredients a nearly undetectable hint of sweet spiciness. I thought Janice’s pork plate was ok, and she didn’t feel it warranted the price tag. I could see why because the pork, while flavorful, was too much of the same flavors. There wasn’t that element, like my peppers, that always kept you guessing with every forkful. Finally, there was the dessert, and what a dessert it was. It was a caramel bread pudding that consisted of a brown butter crumble and cinnamon ice cream with flower blossoms for decoration. Now, I’ve had my fair share of bread puddings, some good and others not so good (contrary to popular opinion), and this was hands down the best I’ve ever had. It wasn’t too hot or too cool. The crumbles were spiced and just in the perfect ratio to the soaked bread below that was filled with luscious caramel. The warmth of the skillet made the cinnamon ice cream atop this work of art melt and soak into each spoonful. I was having my own When Harry Met Sally moment by the time we sadly hit the end of our metal clad sweet secret. After we paid and did a short nightly jaunt around one of Charleston’s main streets, we made our way home after a successful first day in Charleston. Stay tuned for the next chapters in our journey and the road to our engagement proposal!

Zdravo, friends! Welcome to another edition of Mastication Monologues! If you didn’t recognize my initial greeting, it was just one way to say “Hello” in Bosnian. This Balkan nation goes back to time eternal, but after millennia of shifting borders and political alliances have managed to achieve stability and a high standard of life for its citizens. The name of Bosnia and Herzegovina is disputed, but many scholars believe that Bosnia is derived from the Bosna river while Herzegovina is a bit more complicated. A Bosnian nobleman adopted the title Herceg (“duke” in Bosnian) and combined it with the ending “-ovina” meaning “land”. Once again, a rich guy stamping his name on a piece of land like Pennsylvania and America, for example. Anyway, moving on from monikers, today’s post involves Kiko’s Meat Market, a homey piece of the Balkan nation located in the Lincoln Square neighborhood which is home to numerous immigrants from the Balkans.

It was a cold night when Janice and I finally made our way into this mysterious restaurant right across the street from one of numerous magic shops that inhabit this part of town for some odd reason. I didn’t know what to expect from an establishment with the term “meat market” in the title. Was it going to bring me back to my life as a deli counter worker in the now defunct Chicago-based, all things Slavic emporium Bobak’s Sausage Company, or perhaps something more fitting in the Boystown neighborhood? It was neither. There is street and paid parking on the surrounding streets, and the staff were very friendly to us upon entering. We heard more Bosnian and Serbian conversations than English as we were escorted to our seats which only added to the ambiance of traveling to another corner of the world without even needing a passport. As for the actual decor, it wasn’t anything over the top or notable. It was a basic diner that reminded me of some of the Polish diners that used to be all over on the Southwest side around my grandparents house. Not only was it a restaurant, but it was connected to a Balkan grocer and deli where you could buy different types of meats and treats from the old country. Definitely worth a visit if you’re looking for some sausage or bakery or waiting for the waitress to come to your table like I did. Before we got a chance to look over the menu, we ordered our drinks. I got a Jelen beer which is a Serbian pale lager. The name of the beer in Serbian means “deer” hence the majestic wildlife on the label. It was nothing of note. In fact, it reminded me of every beer from Southern Europe, i.e. thin and inoffensive. Not surprising when these brews come from wine cultures. On top of the liquid bread, we were provided the old fashioned sliced kind. It may not look like much, but it was clearly homemade with the warm, pliant middle and just crusty enough edges that were enhanced by the accompanying European butter that was smoother and not as salty as its American counterpart. These were just warning shots before the bomb that was dropped in the form of the entrees: the sampler platter (Mješano meso) and the cabbage rolls (sarma). The cabbage rolls looked similar to the gołąbki my Polish family makes for most, if not all, family get-togethers. It consisted of a soft and slightly sour exterior of translucent, pea green cabbage that was doused in a beef and tomato sauce. These little rolls were camping between two mini-mountains of mashed potatoes that were enhanced with a generous dollop of sour cream like fresh powder in the Alps. We quickly cut into the rolls and were met with a rice and beef blend that was kind of different from the pork, rice, and pea mixture found in my family’s Polish counterpart. It was everything I love about Eastern European cooking: warm, comforting, and hearty. The cool sour cream cut through the bit of grease that accompanied the meat. The mashed potatoes were anonymous in a plate full of character and bold flavors. After that first act, it was time to step up to the plate and take on the champ. The sampler platter was the Andre the Giant of our meal: just one giant hunk of meat (thankfully, better looking though).

Beauty and the Beast

Actually, to be specific it consisted of a variety of Bosnian meats including chevapi, sausages, chicken, veal kebobs, and veal liver all served within traditional a traditional Balkan pita bread with a side of fries, salad, and ‘kajmak’ cheese. We asked our waitress if it was going to be enough food before we ordered it, and once it was in front of us, we could see why she laughed at our naivete. I felt like I was King Arthur putting Excalibur back into its stone home, but instead of having my crown rescinded, we were both blessed with a bountiful meal. Naturally, the bread was warm and much more substantial than a Greek pita and baked to perfection. The kajmak cheese was like a Balkan version of brie that went very well on the warm bread. The chevapi weren’t new to us since we’ve tried other countries’ versions of these miniscule skinless sausages. They’re essentially char-grilled pieces of beef and pork that just go down way too easy. The sausages were all made in house, and they seemed to be pork based. I was more particular to their chicken that absorbed a little bit of each of the other meats’ flavors which isn’t surprising since every meat seems to taste like chicken. Long story short, if you’re a carnivore, this sampler platter is just for you. The veal kebobs were very tender, juicy, and bursting with flavor. We both tried a bit of the veal liver, but we weren’t fans of the unique, grainy texture that accompanies liver. Then again, we were also saving room for dessert like the smart people we are. Even though we felt like we were ready to burst, Janice jumped for the tiramisu while I went for the more exotic tufahija. Tiramisu isn’t Bosnian, rather Italian, and is a more recent invention around the 1960s. The origin of the name of the dessert is up for debate including the name of a Veneto baker’s apprentice’s maiden name, but a layer cake by any other name would taste as sweet and coffee-tastic. It was a welcome change from the heavier plates we chowed down on earlier. From the coffee soaked bottom layer to the heavenly light cream on top, it was a dessert fit for my classy bella donna. As for my tufahija, it is a relic of centuries of Ottoman rule in the Balkans. This is clearly evident since the name is derived from the Arabic word “tuffàh” (تفاحة‎) meaning “apple” in English, but the dessert itself originates in Persia. It consisted of a cold, skinned apple soaked in sugar water and then stuffed with walnuts and topped with whipped cream. It was so wildly different compared to everything I had that dinner, nay I’ve had in dessertdom, and I loved every minute of it. The apple was slightly moist and chilled but not soggy somehow. As I moved my way through the dessert, the core was filled with crunchy, basically raw walnuts that provided a much needed crunch and offset the sweet, but not overly so, apple. These elements by themselves were wonderful, and the whipped cream was good up to a point. I think it was a bit excessive with the wavy white sea this dessert was bobbing in. I would highly recommend this dessert though if you’re looking to break away from traditional end platters to your meal.

We left Kiko’s with very happy and stuffed bellies with another full meal of leftovers in our doggy bag, so you will definitely get your money’s worth at this eatery. If you’re a carnivore or looking for a new and unique restaurant that also serves one of Chicago’s many Balkan communities, you got to get to Kiko’s Meat Market!

What says summer more than a barbecue? Burgers, beers, and brats abound as Americans across the country congregate in their backyards around a sizzling grill as our ancestors have done since the beginning of time. While we’ve gone beyond grunting at each other and digging into fresh hunks of mastodon, the love for grilled meats is still going on strong as I found out at Rocks in Lincoln Park.

The previous night we had spent a good time enjoying some bodacious burgers and brews at George Street Pub, so we ended up at Rock’s since they had some delicious brunch options. It didn’t strike me as anything novel in terms of decor or concept upon walking into the establishment though. A high end pub with wood and stone accents that focuses on beer and whiskey…yawn. Since it was already noon, I was in the mood for something a bit more on the lunch end of things. They had a fair bit of appetizers, sweet plates, sandwiches, and burgers (including a four pound burger challenge). Plus, they had a litany of beers along with plenty of whiskeys; hence the name, Rocks, as in the ice cubes. Continuing in the trend of the weekend, I looked over the burgers and tried to find something new and interesting. Enter El Gordo or “The Fat” ($10). I could then choose a side from a mini list of intriguing options, but I went with the Greek fries.

When the burger came out, I was taken aback with how it was presented with all of its toppings bared to the world like a sorority girl at Mardi Gras. I could see the half pound beef patty topped with pepper jack, cheddar, and provolone, three strips of bacon, pieces of onion rings, deep fried pickles, and a coating of spicy 1,000 island dressing. I was having the meat sweats just looking at this mountain of a meal, but I put the pretzel top bun on and got ready to rock. The first bite was quite intense as I cut through the gooey layer of cheese, juicy meat, crispy bacon, and sour layers of fried vegetables. I personally thought they were gilding the rose though with this burger. While I’d recommend it to anyone, it seemed like a bit too much was going on in regard to the flavor profile. The pickles overwhelmed a lot of the flavors including the supposedly spicy 1000 island sauce. Thankfully, the pretzel bun managed to keep all of the contents between my fingers, and I’ve found the pretzel bun to be the sturdiest variety of bread utilized in burger construction. Good old fashioned German food engineering at work. What I was more entertained with were the Greek fries. While they were similar to some taters I’ve tasted in Oregon, they were a Hellenic treat complete with actual chunks of seasoned Feta cheese. I’m loco about my queso, and these fries fit the bill. The creamy and crumbly pieces of goat cheese were pungent and transported the oregano coated potatoes to a cut above the rest.

So if you’re looking for another bar that serves ridiculous burgers alongside brunch items with a touch of class, roll on over to Rocks!

Hey hey, everybody! Welcome to another masterful Mastication Monologues which is just getting better and better as my time in South Korea winds down. Today I’ll be bringing you two Korean specialties that I had been hearing about for ages but never tried until now. First, there is sundae (soon-day) which is not the ice cream treat everyone loves, but rather a sausage made with blood. There is a similar type of sausage in other cuisines like black pudding in England, morcilla in Spain, or kiszka in Poland. However, it’s not for everyone. Naturally, I like going off the beaten path when it comes to food, so my friend Bora took me to a specialty sundae restaurant near Sillim station where we’d meet up with her other friend. I didn’t know what exactly to expect as we walked up the stairs of a pretty dilapidated building, but I was surprised to see how big and popular the place was. People seemed genuinely surprised to see me there as I walked past tables of soju drinkers inhaling the savory scents coming from the large grills in front of them. I couldn’t get a good look at the food since the old woman server was gruffly dragging us to her table. Once seated, we got some sweet aprons that were totally my style…I would be thankful for mine later on in the meal.

My fellow diners

They supplied us with a complimentary bowl of grilled liver chunks doused with a sesame sauce and seeds. It was a great antipasto since each piece was firm and packed with rich, meaty tones with shades of the sesame seeds mixed in. Our brusque server proceeded to bring a large grill similar to the aforementioned ones and piled slices of burgundy sundae, chopped and oiled vegetables, and noodles on the hot surface. After about ten minutes of waiting, it was deemed ready to eat. They also provided some sort of chili sauce (center of the grill in the picture) with that seemed like chopped nuts on top which ended up tasting like spicy peanuts. As for the melange of ingredients on the grill, they were fantastic on the whole. The eatery’s specialty, the sundae, was slightly chewy but bursting with a slightly iron-rich tang. My favorite part was the noodles when they fried to a crispy layer that added a welcomed crunch to a mostly chewy meal. I started to slow down eating when my dining companions apparently ordered fried rice, but the restaurant supposedly didn’t have any more rice which was shocking. So the server managed to get some out of her own secret stash in her bag (Why she was carrying rice in her bag in the first place is beyond me) along with some cut-up parsley. It was nothing special. However, what I had next was unique as being touted as the spiciest and most popular soup in Korea.

As if I thought I couldn’t eat anymore, Bora and Youngmi brought me to Shingildong Spicy Jjambbong located at 165-5 Shingil-dong, Yeongdeungpo-gu, Seoul (신길동 매운짬뽕, 서울특별시 영등포구 신길동 165-5) for the spicy jjampong (seafood noodle soup) challenge. It’s so popular in Korea that their main sign has all of the tv channels it has been featured on, and the actual name of the place is only a small name plaque hanging next to the building off a traditional Korean statue.

For months, Bora and Youngmi had also prepped me for what to expect with the spicy jjampong including: swollen lips, seared nostrils, and a scorched gastro-intestinal tract. There have been cases of people passing out from the heat, and they have plastic bags in the bathroom for people throwing up. The official policy is that you have to puke in the bag and throw it out elsewhere because the proprietors were tired of cleaning up the patrons’ stomach contents constantly. How could I say no? We first purchased plenty of dairy products to fight the inferno I was about to ingest and then walked in. The owner was extremely gregarious and excited that a waygookin (foreigner) was going to take on the challenge. Bora informed him I had tried the Drop Dead Donkatsu challenge before, and he said (in Korean), “The donkatsu is just spice with no flavor. My jjampong is spicy and tasty. In my kitchen, it’s pure science.” After a couple snapshots, I sat down like a man condemned to his last meal as I looked around at all of the warning signs I was walking into a disaster. Most of it was in Korean with warnings like “out of body experience”, “I shit fire”, or this lovely one.

Just slightly afraid.

Right before the soup came out, they gave me a mountain of pickled yellow radish slices which was another ominous omen. Before I knew it, I was face to face with the infamous cauldron of doom. My fear must have gotten the best of me as I was trying to find the right way to eat it and even forgot how to use chopsticks as shown in my video. Skip ahead to 1:30 if you want to see me actually eating the noodles and skip all of my fumbling and commentary.

The fear is gripping me.

When the noodles finally got cool enough to eat, I slurped them up much to the horror of the spectators watching this exercise in pain. I found the spicy kick to have an immediate effect, but it was mainly focused on my tongue as it was enveloped in a blanket of spice.

The spice made me crazy!

It was like eating a mouthful of habaneros, but it wasn’t terrible. The fumes were actually noxious and bothered my nose now and then, but Youngmi and Bora were actually coughing. I picked out the mussels and focused on the noodles. The owner came out to check how I was doing, and I was coping with it like a champ to his dismay. So he then proceeded to feed me the broth on the spoon with a “here comes the airplane” baby technique which was pretty funny. However, I realized that the broth was a million times spicier than the soaked noodles, and the vegetables were the worst part since they were like little sponges soaking up the devil’s potion. Bora told me the radish slices are traditionally put on the tongue to alleviate the diner’s suffering, so I gave it a shot. I think she just wanted me to look silly, but it did help a little bit.

Just playin’ with my food

Overall, I came through with flying colors for my final spice challenge in Korea, and the owner was right; his soup was extremely flavorful with a spice that was the equivalent of a raging forest fire in my mouth. So if you’re feeling like you’re up for a challenge or want to get a good laugh while watching your friends eat it/suffer through it, go to Spicy Jjampong.

Hey everyone! Welcome to the 120th installation of Mastication Monologues! Not only is this post special just because I’ve reached another milestone in the “arduous” quest to be a great food blog writer, but it’s also an installment that chronicles my 26th birthday. Naturally, I had to go big for my second birthday overseas, so I ended up at Action Grill in Hongdae. Here is their business card with all of the information you need along with their Facebook page. The directions are quite long and detailed, so I’m sure Google Maps will suffice.

It’s surprising that I even ended up here in the first place because I found it originally on accident like Christopher Colombus minus the biological warfare and genocide of the local population. It was a lovely summer day with my friend who I went out with to get ice cream at Fell and Cole. We then walked around Hongdae just for fun, and we stumbled upon the establishment that drew us in with the grills set up outside. We took a look inside, and I knew that I absolutely had to eat at Action Grill one day. What better day than my birthday? So I set everything up with the owner, Kim, whose number is on the card. He was very helpful and understanding, so I’d give the service an A+ just based on his accommodating nature. Now you might be wondering what sets Action Grill apart from other restaurants and made me want to eat there above all other places? Well, at Action Grill you camp indoors while you eat. So basically everything from the seats to the grills, to the decor are straight out of a foray in the forest. Their menu revolves around grill sets which range from 15,000 W to 40,000 W. They also have a wide range of beverages both alcoholic and non-alcoholic. For our group of 12 people, we got three of the “Brother” sets which feeds four people, more or less. It took about 15 minutes for them to prepare it, and then they brought it out to our tables in full Weber grills. When they removed the tops, I was taken aback by how much delicious food was piled up in front of me. On one grill we had slices of bacon, sausages, full shrimp, chicken, potato wedges, and veggies encased in a tin foil tent. It was a fun group eating experience since you had fold out forks and filled up each others’ small camping bowls with the food. As for the actual meal, all of the food was great. I was especially partial to the bacon because there was a lot of fat on it which made it especially smooth and buttery tasting. The chicken was good but oddly had an aftertaste of hot dogs. I personally liked combining the onion and pepper veggie salad with the different meats to provide a crisp contrast to the savory elements that the meats brought. As for the potato wedges, they were well made with crunchy exteriors along with firm, snow-white interiors. It was an even more interesting dining experience since I was interviewed and filmed by Korean college students talking about how I much I enjoyed the restaurant. Overall, I was quite satisfied with my meal at Action Grill and the unique camping experience was quite entertaining since they took away all of the annoying parts of camping like mosquitos and rabid raccoons. However, my birthday food adventure didn’t just stop there. I also tried some pizza beer with my friend, Bora. Somehow Tom Seefurth managed to distill the essence of a classic Margherita pizza into a lager. It wasn’t something that I would ask for again, but the experience was worth it. It had a distinct oregano smell, but as for the taste, it was more peppery and cheesy. This was an occasion where I think they over-elaborated on culinary fusion. Nothing’s better than pizza and beer, but when they combined them, it left me feeling less than saucy.

Mama mia! indeed

Much later in the night after a lot of dancing and the occasional imbibing of some adult beverages, my friends and I stopped for some Korean street food. This time I tried a Korean winter specialty, 계란 빵 or egg bread.

Breakfast for a late night snack

It’s exactly what it sounds like. Creative name, huh? They look like small hors d’oeurves served up on a hot griddle, but they were just what I needed to brace myself against the chilly night. The egg is served sunny side up on top of the bread, so watch out for some yolk splatter. As for the bread, it was pleasantly crispy and completed this small, hearty breakfast tablet that I ate in the middle of the street.

Freezing but so worth it

A tasty end to my birthday even though half of it ended up on my face thanks to Bora trying to feed me it. I wouldn’t have it any other way.